


The Art of Redmption

by RenByHeart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Gabriel, Homophobic Language, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Protective OFC, Samifer - Freeform, Self-Esteem Issues, Serial Killers, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural AU: Not Hunters, cop!Lucifer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenByHeart/pseuds/RenByHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester is a man wracked by loneliness who just wants to be closer to the brother that ran away from home when Sam was only sixteen. Periculum, South Dakota seems like the answer to his prayers. That is until he witnessed a murder that the rest of the town doesn't want to acknowledge ever happened. No one will listen to him and the only one he can rely on is a defensive, overprotective, overworked woman with a dark past, because there is no way he's telling his brother.</p>
<p>Then Lucifer Novak strolls into town.</p>
<p>It's hard to resist the man who stares intently, stands a little to close and is enthralled by one, simple, little word, but Sam manages. Then he is attacked and he has to turn to the cop for help. </p>
<p>Can Lucifer save him, not only from a killer, but from Sam's own mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge: Starting Over

There was a lot of things Sam Winchester was prepared for when he moved to a small town in the middle of South Dakota. Crazy fanatics that secretly worshiped the devil in their basements, the odd neighbor that pretended to not have a video camera trained on his yard to catch wayward trespassers, and even the slightly suspicious mail-man that had had a funky red stain on the front of his shirt. All of these he'd encountered in his past small town experiences, so he had felt totally prepared to settle down for a couple months in the town of Periculum.

And at first glance, the town was perfectly normal in that old city kind of way. There were lots of trees that towered to the sky, casting shadows over carefully maintained sidewalks and artfully done benches. Plenty of small parks were laid out strategically around old style homes that stood proudly on their manicured lawns. 

Downtown was the kind of place artists dreamed about. Almost every building was adorned with a mural depicting some sort of event, whether it be historical or mythical. Since most of the shops were squished together and brick, the paint sometimes tended to peel away after being subjected to hard weather. It wasn’t unusual for a muralist to be seen fixing up his or her masterpiece after a particularly harsh bout of rain.

There was, of course, newer buildings that surrounded the old town, but they were sort of ignored in light of this peaceful little image of normal.

If Sam hadn’t already been thrilled that he’d be staying in one place for an entire year, he’d probably say that Periculum was the best place to settle down in. 

As it was, he was practically vibrating in his seat as his father pulled up the driveway to one of the Victorian like homes. It was by no means an old house with its orange and red brick outsides gleaming a little too newly in the sun. It was about three stories and there were french style windows neatly aligned from top to bottom. There was a wrap around porch that was painted white, contrasting wildly with the brick and startling red door. 

The grass was short enough to be springy underneath his feet, but long enough to actually be considered mow-able. Dark river rock paved the way to the front door and was bordered by brightly colored flowers. It was exactly everything that Sam dreamed it would be. 

John Winchester seemed unaffected and after helping Sam get all of his stuff on the porch, he mumbled a gruff goodbye before climbing back into the vehicle and driving away.

Luckily, Sam was too excited to feel slighted from his father’s lack of attention. 

Instead, he knocked evenly on the door, taking a moment to wonder why there wasn’t a screen as well. 

There was a pause where no sound was to be heard. He twitched uncertainly and hoped he was actually at the right house. Nervous, he reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone, but just as he turned it on, the door opened with an audible  
, revealing probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever encountered. 

She looked about the same age as him with curly, fiery red hair that, even in a ponytail, reached her back. Pale, unblemished skin pulled taut over lean muscle, shown off by a pair of well fitting jeans and a tight black tank. Her almond shaped eyes were a forest green that were sharp and observant, set over a perfectly straight nose and almost full mouth. Sam wasn’t sure she was wearing makeup, but if he were taking a wild guess, he’d say she wouldn’t have needed it. 

She was obnoxiously chewing gum and staring at him in a totally unamused manner. 

“If you’re not here selling girl scout cookies, then I suggest you turn around and leave her alone.” She said, tensely leaning against the door frame. Her voice was surprisingly deep for a woman, but it was still distinctly feminine. It was a little bit like dark chocolate if Sam was going to get poetic. 

However, her dismissal confused him. “Um…” He said intelligibly. He wanted ask ‘what the hell,’ but his brain couldn’t get past her posture. She looked ready to beat him down, which would have been impressive seeing as he was nearing six foot four and she couldn’t have been more than five foot seven. 

With an exaggerated sigh, she rolled her eyes and pushed away from the frame, grabbing at the door as if to slam it his face. “Irene doesn’t want to deal with overzealous suitors today, so do us all a favor and vamoosh.” Her words were pointed and cutting, accompanying it with a fierce face that would have scared a lesser man. 

But, Sam was more confused than anything else. “Who the hell uses the word ‘suitors’ anymore?” 

She stared at him as if he had grown another head. “Are you really going to argue with me about my choice of words?” She asked, tone dipping about a thousand degrees.

“Well not really,” Sam said, looking down at his watch, “But, it does kind of strike me as odd. I’m trying to figure out if it a regional thing that I’m going to have to get used to, or if you’re trying to use the word as an added intimidation factor.” His watch confirmed he was on time, so the open hostility he was receiving was baffling. “Is this the home of Cecelia Graceland?” 

Apparently those words were enough to drop her defensive posture. “You’re not Bryant, are you?” She asked, stepping out onto the porch.

“Oh, uh, no,” He replied, reaching out his hand, “Sam. Sam Winchester.” 

Her grip was firm when she took his hand. “Your that vague art kid that wanted to learn under my Aunt?”

It took more effort than he thought reasonable to not blush. “That’d be me, but I wasn’t expecting the Spanish Armada to greet me.”

Instead of looking embarrassed, the woman smiled brightly at him. “Honestly, three people were suppose to show up before you and by default I assumed you were going to be late as well. Good on you for being early, you’ll get heavy points later in the future. Just don’t expect anyone here to notice.”

“Everyone is use to being punctual?”

“Good God, no. We are a chronically late town. If you show up early, you’ll be waiting a really long time.”

With that she stepped back and grandly spread her arms. “Unavoidable tardiness aside, welcome to the Fine Arts Institute of Periculum, South Dakota. FAIP for short. My name is Cai Tate and I will be your guide.” She accompanied her mini-speech with a deep bow and swung out an arm, giving him leave to step into the house. 

The front foyer was surprisingly bare of anything and the walls were painted a vibrant yellow that was almost terrible, but managed to not be. There was a staircase directly in front of him that ended at one landing then turned the opposite direction and went up another flight. There were french doors that opened up on either side of him leading into what Sam could only guess to be the formal sitting room and formal dining room. 

The floor and railing on the stairs were stained a beautiful mahogany red. 

Cai stopped just short of the stairs and turned back to look at him. “So, informal tour of the house. This, of course, is the foyer. All guests must be approved before stepping anywhere further into the house. These two rooms,” She spread out her arms and pointed like she was a flight attendant, “Are the formal rooms. Honestly we never use them, but it’s nice to pretend they serve a purpose. Anyway, through those rooms you’ll find a door that leads into the kitchen and yes, the kitchen really is that big. You’ll be able to access the sun room through the back door. Now! Upstairs!” 

She bounded up the stairs and he was barely able to keep up with her. Once he hit the top step, the floor crinkled under his foot. Looking down, he saw that the entire hallway was covered in plastic. 

“Don’t underestimate the plastic.” Cai said, her voice dipping low in seriousness. “We are art students. Cleanliness has never been our forte.” She whipped around and did the same pointing motions she did downstairs. “Anyway! This is the studio floor. If you need anything, chances are you’ll find it behind one of these doors. However, if a door is closed, don’t open it. It’ll be a lot easier living with people that will respect your privacy. Now upwards!”

Again, she run up the next flight of stairs with Sam lugging his suitcases up behind her. The next floor was a little smaller than the first two and more pointed, like it had a one time been an attic. There was a small hallway of boring cream and six doors. All but one had a nameplate on it. 

“These are the residents that are living here. The first door on you left is Anna Novak. She’s super sweet, so if you want to make a quick friend she’s the one to go to. In the room across from her is Gabriel Novak… you’ll probably want to avoid him if you can.”

“Why? Is he terrible?” He couldn’t imagine anyone in this kind of house to be a horrible individual.

“No! No! Well….. He’s….. I’m not sure how to explain him. He’s nice to the people he likes, but his personality is somewhat of an… acquired taste. You’ll find out once you meet him.” She looked very much like she didn’t want him to. 

Soon she swept off to the room next to Gabriel’s. “This is Clide McDougal. He’s fun, and a charmer. It doesn’t matter to him if you’re a male or female. If you look good, chances are he’ll want to do you.”

“So… Moral of that story?”

She gave him a somewhat amused look. “Honey, you better watch your ass.”

Sam wasn’t totally sure how to take that so he just shrugged as she pointed to the room across the way. “That one is my sister and I. You’ve already met me and Irene is notoriously unlucky with men.”

He did a visible double take. “Wait. Why is that an important fact to know?”

“Because sometimes I have to rough them up a bit to get them to back off.”

“... Was that the cause of the posturing you did when I first showed up?”

Her smile was unrepentant. “Yes, sir. I was expecting some man she met at a party last week, but of course like everyone else in this town, he was-”

“Late.”

“See! You're getting a hang of things already!” Sam wondered why she didn’t sound all that happy about that. 

“Alright so next to us is Zara Monk. She’s quiet and you probably won’t see much of her and off course, you get the room across from hers.” She opened said room with a flourish and Sam was almost dazzled by the canary yellow that attacked his senses. 

There were birds everywhere. Not real birds of course, but pictures and stuffed ones along the walls and window sills. The ceiling fan had little parrots hanging from the blades and even the bedspread was a miss-mash of alarmingly bright colored winged beasts. 

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure what to say. Lying wasn’t exactly a skill he had, but at the same time he didn’t want to offend his host. 

Fortunately, Cai must have known how he was feeling. “The last woman who stayed here was a little… eccentric. But! Have no fear, because you can decorate this room anyway you please.”

“So it doesn’t have to stay yellow?”

“If all you're worried about is the wall color, I’m evicting you now.” 

For some reason, he found that funny so he was almost surprised when his laugh was a little strained.

A soft expression fell over Cai’s face, dulling the almost present edge of defensive pride that she carried around. It wasn’t quite pity, but it was too close to understanding for his comfort. 

It wasn’t any surprise that she thought she knew what he was going through. FAIP wasn’t only an art institute, but it was also a safe house for people who were trying to get over a way of life. Sam had been running away for so long that when he found a place to stay in the general vicinity of his brother, he jumped at the chance. 

Because of a disagreement between John and his oldest, Dean had packed up and left in a whirlwind of angry words and bloody fists. Sam knew his brother had felt guilty leaving him behind, but Dean was smart enough to know that he had no way of supporting them, so leaving him with John had seemed logical. 

Sam didn’t have the heart to tell him any different.

The assumption, however, that this stranger thought she understood him, made anger bubble uncomfortably in his stomach. Any other time, he’d have lashed out, but on a closer look, he noticed something about the woman in front of him.

She was beautiful angry and defensive, but she was absolutely stunning when she was relaxed. Well, relaxed was a bit of a strong word, so maybe it was just that she wasn’t looking like he was going to attack her.

Suddenly, he found himself curious about the woman in front of him and with that came the realization, that maybe, just maybe, she was feeling the exact same way about him.

Somehow, it felt wrong to be mad then, so instead he turned away from her and set his luggage on his newly acquired, hideously decorated twin bed. There were two dark wooden end tables on either side of the bed and one was equipped with an alarm clock.

2:37 it said.

There was shuffling behind him. “I’ll let you settle in.” Cai said to his back and he heard the gentle click of a door closing. A moment later it opened again. “Oh, by the way. Dinner is at seven. You’ll meet the staff and everyone then. Be prepared for thoroughly invasive questions.” Then the door was shut again.

Sam huffed a bit of a laugh and turned around so he could plop unceremoniously onto his bed. 

Loneliness settled bone deep over him and he dropped his face into his hands to stave off the tears that he’d been holding back for about five years now. It was sad that now that he’d finally gotten away, he still couldn’t shake his depressive manner. South Dakota was suppose to be a new start. There was no reason for him to feel lost already. 

He could do this. 

Even with telling himself that didn’t make the tightness in his throat go away.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam wasn’t sure how long he stayed curled in on himself, but eventually he was able to straighten out enough to retrieve his phone from his pocket.

The hesitation to call his brother wasn’t a new feeling. Sam knew rationally that Dean loved him with everything he had, but it was blindly given. His brother had no idea how tainted Sam was. 

Besides, Dean was happy in the life he’d finally settled down into. He’d found a job as a mechanic, had a boyfriend that put up with him and bought a small one bedroom house that he could fix up. 

Some part of Sam acknowledged that he was being selfish in disregarding Dean’s happiness in an attempt to make himself feel better, but a bigger part of him just missed his brother. It was rough to maintain a relationship with someone you could only call at odd times of night. 

That was part of the read that Dean had no idea that he was there, because if Sam decided chickened out, there would have been no disappointment. But, now that he was actually here, there was no longer a legitimate excuse not to call his brother. 

The phone rang and rang causing Sam to get more twitch as each ring passed on by. Just as he was about to hang up the line clicked over and a rough, deep voice that was most decidedly not his brother’s, rumbled into his ear. 

“Hello?” It wasn’t a voice he recognized and he vaguely wondered if Dean was sick. 

“Dean?”

There was a pause. “Who may I ask is calling?”

Sam took a moment before shrugging. If this man was going to kill him, who was he to stop him? “This is Sam Winchester. I thought this was my brother’s number.”

There was another pause. When the man finally replied it was gentle and kind. “Sam? This is Castiel. I’m sorry, you usually call at night. Dean is at work, would you like to call him there?” 

Sam did a mental head slap. Of course his brother would be at work. That’s what any normal, everyday person does. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. “Uh, no. Sorry. I guess I wasn’t thinking. I’ll give him a call later. Thanks. Bye.”

He was about to hang up, but Castiel’s voice rumbled soothingly down the line. “Sam, wait.” It wasn’t exactly a demand, but at the same time it was said in such a way that made him involuntarily do as he was asked.

For some inexplicable reason, Castiel made him nervous. He’d only heard Dean talk about him, but his brother paints a saintly picture of his boyfriend. Said Cas was born into a religious family and walked away because he believed that you should love whoever you want. God doesn’t make mistakes, so he wouldn’t make somebody that you couldn’t fall in love with. 

The idea of Castiel makes Sam feel small. Cas was a good man that could pull Dean out of his own sinking depression to make an honest man out of him. If Dean had stayed with Sam, he would have felt obligated to take care of his sorry ass and thrown his own dreams away. His brother always had a way of diminishing himself to be as small as possible. 

Thinking about it made his stomach roll violently. This man was everything that Sam could never be. He’d never amount to the same success, even if he tried every day to achieve the same image that his brother idealized.

“Sam are you still there?” The question yanked him from his thoughts, putting him right back into the canary yellow room and talking to his brother’s boyfriend. 

“Yeah.” He replied around a tight throat. There was no way he was going to cry. He’d done a good job of pushing everything back for years. Two words from a stranger wasn’t going to change that. 

“Is everything OK? Do you need me to come get you?” He sounded so concerned that, for a moment, Sam’s resolve almost broke. Dean had never offered to come get him. Was he really that pathetic when some stranger thought he needed to be rescued? Did it mean that Dean hadn’t really wanted him around? Shit, was coming here a bad idea?

Suddenly, what had seemed like a good plan was starting to look like a disaster. What if this is inconvenient to Dean? Maybe he thought the distance was a good thing. God, had he been so blinded by his own selfish wants that he forgot to factor in that maybe his brother wouldn’t want him there?

With his chest tight against his lungs, Sam barely managed to sound upbeat when he answered. “What? No! I was just wondering how life was going for him. Dad’s out of the house so that’s what this early phone call is about.” He hoped that was enough of an explanation.

“Oh. Well how was school then? I heard you graduated from Stanford in May. Any plans for graduate school?”

“I was thinking of joining their law school.” Well he would if he was actually good enough to become a lawyer. “But, I thought I’d take a year off to sort of figure out if that’s a commitment that I want to make.”

“That is not a bad idea. What are your plans then? Are you going anywhere specific?”

This was his chance to tell him where he was, but with all the thoughts whirling through his head, he decided that right then was not the best moment to divulge that information. “Not really. I was thinking maybe I’d just work this summer and head to the east coast. No particular reason.”

As was becoming a common thing when talking with Castiel, there was yet another pause. “Why don’t you come by and visit us?” 

It was blunt and to the point. Funnily enough, it hurt a little more than not telling him that he was already there. “I’ll think about it. Hey, I have to get to work so I’ll hear from you guys later right?”

Again there was a moment of silence. “OK.” 

Satisfied, Sam went to hang up, but as he brought the phone away from his ear, he heard the last rumbled words tumble out of the speaker moments before he hit the ‘end’ button. 

“If you need anything, we’re right here.”

He had a feeling that maybe now, he wouldn’t ever tell his brother that he had come here.

Why couldn’t he be better? Why couldn’t Sam just be everything that someone else needed?

Where was his Castiel?

Was it selfish when an abomination like Samuel Winchester wanted something as good as an almost Saint?

Would it be worth it for the other person if he did?

For some reason, he highly doubted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry... I know it wasn't an exciting chapter and I promise it'll pick up. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

_Darkness overshadowed the towering trees, giving everything an ominous feeling. The ground was still wet from a storm that had taken place earlier, and mud made the pathways slick and unsafe._

_Sam gave no heed to any of this._

_Breath punched out of his lungs in ragged pants as he ran barefoot and blindly scared through the trees. Bare feet smacked against the ground and sunk the further he got away._   
_Loud footfalls could be heard in pursuit of him forcing his legs to move faster despite the sharp scratches of branches._

_If he was some damsel in distress, he’d probably have fallen at some time, but as a man that wasn’t new to this situation, he knew there was too much at stake to stop._

_“Sam!”_

_The angry yell had him cringing even as he hauled himself over a log. Blood seeped down from his shoulder where the hot iron had burned his skin. Bruises ached with each twist of his body and if Sam was a better man, he’d have acknowledged that his night shirt wasn’t just sticking to the sweat on his back._

_But he wasn’t a better man._

_He was worthless._

_He was pathetic._

_He was a coward._

_Coward enough to fly out of the house when his boyfriend started throwing dishes, when he knew he deserved every piece of broken glass embedded into his skin._

_Hands came out of nowhere and gripped his shirt, not only ripping it, but sending him crashing to the ground. Heavy weight landed on his back, keeping any movement minimal and ineffective._

_His mouth opened in a scream, but his face was shoved into the mud. Suffocating, Sam tried to throw the weight off of him, but soon the loss air slowed everything down, making him wonder why he was struggling in the first place. Muzzily scared, all he could do was hope his boyfriend would let up in time before everything went black._

_Sometimes Sam’s hopes were entirely foolish._

*

The beeping of the alarm clock pulled Sam from his nightmare and into the atrociously colored room that he inhabited. Cooling sweat made his clothes stick to him uncomfortably, and a part of him debated whether or not he should shower.

A quick glance at the clock told him that he should be hauling ass downstairs to meet the other tenants of the household. Hopefully, none of them will get close enough to notice his funk.

Slowly, he levered himself up to a sitting position. Taking a deep breath as motivation, he pushed himself up into a standing position even though he wanted nothing more than to curl up and never face the world again.

The kitchen was a cheery place of pastel colors and abstract paintings. There was an island in the middle of the room, big enough to seat about twelve people in high chairs that swiveled. There were already four people in the room, one that was at the stove, and the other three were doing various things from their chairs at the island.

The one closest to Sam was a short man (Though in retrospect, anyone who's not Sam usually is short) of about five foot eight inches. He was a handsome man with blond hair that almost fell across his forehead above mischievous blue eyes. There was a slenderness to him that suggested muscle, but one couldn’t tell with the over sized clothes that he wore. A lollipop dangled from between quirked lips and if Sam didn’t know better, he’d bet this man spent a lot of his time laughing.

The man next to him was also very good looking with sparkling green eyes and dark blond hair that was held back in a messy ponytail. He sort of reminded Sam of those well drawn anime men that has girls falling over in their seats. The ones that were almost feminine in their slenderness, even when obvious muscles lay between well clothed bodies.

There was an air of elegance around him and he looked at ease in his dark green button down and dark blue jeans.

The last of the occupant was a woman about the same height as Cai with dark auburn hair and blue eyes. She was slender, but she practically vibrated where she was standing. There was no doubt that she was pretty, but the way she held herself slightly slumped over, was an obvious indicator that she wasn’t aware of it.

It was her that noticed him first.

Her unblemished face lit up in a smile and she bounded across the room.

“You must be Sam! I’m Anna! The candy crusher is Gabriel and the other one is Clide.”

The man with the lollipop pouted. “Candy crusher?” He asked at about the same time the other man asked, “Hey! How come I’m the ‘other one’?”

Anna ignored them in favor of grabbing Sam’s hands. “So! Tell us a little about yourself like… What’s your favorite color? Have you ever dyed your hair? Any siblings? Favorite Band? Oh my God! Do you like animals? Do you have a girlfriend? Boyfriend? What about-”

“Good God Anna breathe for a moment.” Gabriel said as he fondly looked at the energetic girl and laughed when she blushed bright red.

His gaze turned sharp and malicious, though, when his eyes ventured toward Sam. “Let me guess.” He said, leaning back in his chair and rolling his lollipop around in his mouth. “Favorite color… I’m going to say black, because with the way you're standing gigantor, I can only guess you’re emo to the core. I’d say you like attention so you’ve probably dyed your hair outrageous colors to make sure daddy dearest would notice you.”

“Gabe stop it.” Anna hissed.

Gabriel ignored her and pressed on. “I’d say you come from a big family, which to me spells out the inferior complex thing going on with your siblings. Favorite band…. hmmm…. I’m going to say Three Days Grace. That angsty enough for you? I think you secretly like animals, but you won’t admit it. As for a girlfriend, I bet you’ve got a girl who's got a boat load of self esteem issues. That sound about right?”

The man sounded so sure that for a moment Sam had to look down at himself to see what he was doing to make someone have that sort of impression of him. All he could see was an over sized white sweater and ripped blue jeans that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. Maybe he’d have to change a few things in his wardrobe so that he wouldn’t be seen as attention seeking.

He doesn’t want to place that sort of burden on anyone, especially not a stranger.

“Gabriel Novak! That was totally uncalled for!” Anna exclaimed. She looked ready to murder someone.

“Anna, it’s OK.” Sam said, straightening his back. He wasn’t going to let this man think that he was going to demand attention from anyone. “My favorite color is actually green and depending on the type, blue. I haven’t ever dyed my hair. I have two brothers; one younger and one older. My favorite band will have to be Metallica. I was born on it and I will die on it. There is nothing wrong with animals and I am quite partial to dogs. I don’t have a girlfriend or a boyfriend.” Then to defer the focus from himself, looked at Anna and asked with a painfully cheerful smile, “What about you?”

She looked elated that he asked. Sam found out three important things in the next three minutes of his life. One, that Anna was a total tree hugger. Recycling was her motto. Two, she was single handedly the most cheerful person he’d ever encountered and three, Gabriel stared way to intently and way too long for it to be socially acceptable.

“Now kids, you best be sittin’ done here soon otherwise this foods gonna go to waste.”

Sam visibly jumped. He had totally forgotten that there was a fourth person in the room. The woman at the stove was beautiful, with a wide bone structure laid over with lean muscle and velvety brown skin. Her face was modelesque, with high cheekbones and a straight nose that was set over full lips.

With an unwavering gaze, she caught his eyes with her dark brown ones, almost like she knew everything with a glance. Her hair was pulled back into a thick rope of black, but some strands fell forward framing the sharp angles of her face.

Sam dropped his gaze and quickly shuffled his way to the table.

“Mind your manners boy.” The woman said, tapping him lightly on the head with a whisk. “You’ve introduced yourself to everyone but me.”

Startled, he quickly set out to rectify his mistake. “Oh, sorry, um. My name is Sam.” He said, eloquently as he held out his hand. When she grabbed it, he was shocked at the strength she displayed. “Well, Sam.” She replied, “I am Mayella. I’m the cook of this house.”

Unsure what to say, he just tried to make himself smaller and offered a smile.

Dinner turned out to be a wonderful ensemble of chili, cornbread, and green beans. No one really paid much attention to him, except for Clide, who had scooted as close to him as was socially acceptable. Anna was in deep conversation with Gabriel, who looked apathetic to whatever was being said.

“So where you from Sam?” Clide asked, ignoring his food to look at him, which in turn made Sam too nervous to eat. So, he pushed the food around to look like he was at least enjoying Mayella’s hard work.

“Lawrence, Kansas.” He replied, “What about you?”

The other man smiled darkly, and shrugged. “All over. My family was an interesting group of hippies. We never stayed in one place long enough to call it home.”

“Really? That sounds more like a gypsy lifestyle.”

“I wish. How cool would it have been to claim that I was gypsy? But, no, we were definitely hippies.”

“So, what led you to South Dakota?”

There was another shrug. “I was decent at dancing.” That explained the slenderness. “So, when I decided a nomadic life wasn’t what I wanted, I looked to find places that could help me get on my feet.”

“That’s amazing. It’s awesome that you took charge of your own life.” Sam was honest in his sincerity. It must of been hard to go from moving around constantly to spending extended periods of time in one place.

Again, Clide shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “It’s a little hard.”

“Taking charge of your own life?”

The blond haired man laughed at that. “That too, but I meant staying in one place.”

Sam was shocked, even though he had just been thinking the same thing. “Are you not comfortable here?”

“Oh I’m comfortable here and honestly I know deep down that this is what I want, but sometimes there's an itch underneath my skin that tells me to move. Tells me to pack up and get going. It’s like even though I don’t have a destination, it doesn’t really matter. I’ll still find what I’m looking for.”

“So does that itch translate to how you dance?”

Clide looked startled, like he couldn’t believe Sam said something like that. For a moment, he felt stupid and thought he offended the man, until he breathlessly replied, “Yes.”

He looked mystified, and it made Sam uncomfortable enough to shrink in on himself.

Luckily, that was when Cai decided to make an appearance. She came floating through the door and made a beeline to the food on the stove.

“Hey Cai. What have you been up to?” He asked. There was a groan and Gabriel made a slicing motion over his neck. There wasn’t any exaggeration on the man’s face and that worried him.

Confused, Sam looked back at the woman at the stove and was startled as she turned to look at him.

“Whoa. You’re not Cai.” And she wasn’t. Her face was a little rounder, and there was a darker sprinkling of freckles over her face.

Apparently, she wasn’t to offended by his faux pas and instead a warm smile lit up her face. “Nope!” She said cheerily. “I’m Irene!”

They shook and he ducked his head in apology. "Sorry for my mistake. I hadn't realized that when Cai said sister, she meant twin."

Irene waved a dismissive hand and breezed past him. "She normally doesn't. I think it makes her feel like she's protecting me." Which didn't make any sense to him, but it wasn't his place to question so, his he didn't ask. After that dinner passed a little more comfortably. Mostly, because Irene turned out to be a real talker and her rambles made his presence fade into the background. Every once and a while Anna or Clide would make some comment to him, but they were never anything he had to elaborate with more than one worded answers. 

Sam almost felt like he was accepted.

He wasn’t really sure he deserved that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..... This took longer that I thought. Sorry guys........

**Author's Note:**

> So... Thoughts? Constructive criticism is always welcome! :-D


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